Phantom of the Opera...continued...

The Basement

There you sat staring at the computer in your small, individual cubicle. It was so small that with every movement, your long, thin legs would bang the bottom of your desk. You felt like you had to curl yourself up and squeeze your body into a little box that you had outgrown many years ago. There was just enough room on the table for a computer, a phone, maybe some papers and a cup of coffee. This desk was pretty much your life. You were there all the time, mostly because you did not like your roommate. Your roommate was boring, not to mention her hygiene. She had no sense of cleanliness, and her boyfriend was no different. He was over all the time, and every time he came over, he would fill the house with smoke. In order to deal with that, you worked more. It got you away from home, and you got more money. Two benefits in one. But besides that, you enjoyed work. At least, you had something to do. You were never the sociable type. Always stayed in doors. Avoided being with people and interacting with others. It got so bad that you wouldn't even ask a stranger for help when you were lost. You had decided to go to a international working trip to Paris so, being from a small town in Pennsylvania, the new environment did not fit well with you. On top of that, your French was pas si bon. In other words, you might as well enter the first grade, but you decided that this was a great opportunity to improve.

Anyways, your employment at Le Figaro started in August, about 2 months prior to this day. You had to leave everything behind, your home, family and friends, that is whatever friends you had which was not much. It was the biggest step of your life. You have never achieved something so huge. The day you got accepted was a dream come true, but that was in the past now. Even though you loved writing for Le Figaro, you hated your workplace. It was small and your coworkers were cold and, well, swollen-headed. They were the wealthy, successful and the stuck-up type. Your boss had a bad temper and little patience for tomfoolery, but you did not let that get in the way of your love for writing. You did not care who you worked with. You just wanted to write.

You had always dreamed of being a journalist, going out and writing the big stories on the crazy things that happened in our world. When you were just a child, you would tell your parents that you were going to be famous and would fix all the world's problems. You had seen a lot of pain in your life. Your baby sister died at the age of 4 from Leukemia, leaving you as an only child. Your mom had died while you were just 12 years old from heart disease. Now it was just you and your dad, and your dad was reaching a ripe old age. At an early age, you learned that writing helped you cope with some of the pain and loneliness, and by the time you were in high school, you decided that you wanted to be a writer. No one understood why. They, including your dad, thought that it was a pointless career. Your dad wanted you to have a higher paying job, like a scientist or lawyer. So typical. No one believed you could make it as a writer, but you were determined to show them wrong. It had been a long and hard road, but you knew that when you got this job, it would be your turning point for better.

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Today was a big day. It was your first major story. Previously, you had only been given small articles to write. They were insignificant subjects, like the newest fashion design. Things people never read anyways. Who would? They were so boring and irrelevant. So when your boss gave you this assignment, your first reaction was mixed. You felt excitement, fear and disbelief. If you did well, you would get everything you ever wanted. A promotion, the big stories, maybe even going out to the frontlines to collect information and... yes, a bigger desk. If you did not do so well, you would lose your opportunity to be the big shot. You would end up exactly where you were, writing the stories nobody wanted to write. Who knew how long it would take to get back to where you are now.

Your story was based on an accident downtown. It involved two individuals of 20 and 25 years old. The 20 year old was a male while the 25 year old was a female. They were both seriously injured but alive. They had a huge collision on the interstate. There was glass everywhere, and both cars were totaled. It was a surprise that anyone survived. Somehow the other cars did not get damaged in the accident but were very close to it. It was the story of the day and a very sad one at that, but you were excited to take it on. So there you were typing away as you listened to the rustling of your co-workers. Click. Click. Scan. Click. Shuffle.